


Body

by Hayloft (Auriel)



Category: Marble Hornets
Genre: ? - Freeform, Dissociation, Gen, I mean-, Song fic, mild body horror, takes place mid-canon, unreality
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-13
Updated: 2020-07-13
Packaged: 2021-03-04 21:34:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,047
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25233232
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Auriel/pseuds/Hayloft
Summary: I’ve grown tired of this body,cumbersome and heavy body.---Please heed the warnings in the tags! This takes place the night after Jay's fight with Tim (yknow, the one where he gets punched in the face).
Relationships: Jay Merrick & Timothy "Tim" Wright
Comments: 2
Kudos: 7





	Body

**_CRASH_ **

Jay flinched as the thunder roared overhead, the rain pouring down even heavier outside. The sound of chaos was almost overwhelming. Sighing, he buried his face in his hands. A frown made its way onto his face as he tried to focus on the smell of mildew that filled the room.

_ Take my eyes, take them aside _

_ Take my face, and desecrate _

It’s been only a few hours since his fight with Tim, the exhaustion weighing him down felt like someone just thrusted a fucking thousand pound weight on him. He deserved what he got, but that doesn’t make him feel any better about the situation. I mean, give someone an experience that they enjoy and they’ll never want to go back to how things were. Of course, this was  _ not _ the kind of experience he’d ever want to relive.

_ My arms and legs _

_ They get in the way _

Everything has started to turn muted, he knows that he won’t be able to keep up with this investigation eventually. He doesn’t even know what he wants out of any of this, but it’s all he can remember and it’s all he can think of to do. It’s not like he has a home anymore anyway.

_ Take my hands, they'll understand _

_ Take my heart, pull it apart _

His breath hitches as his eyes start to tear up. God, there really  _ was _ no point in any of this. He  _ knows _ it’s not going to end well, and even worse he literally  _ just _ lost the first person he’d started to trust again after this whole thing started. Sure, he pulled some dumb stunts occasionally but he wasn’t an  _ idiot _ . But he was already too far deep into this whole mess, it wasn’t like he could just leave the channel as is and go back to his normal life. He doubts  _ it _ would even let him in the first place.

_ And take my brain, or what remains _

“This situation is just one big fucking mess…” trailing off, he tries to make sure that he’s barely out of frome of the camera. He doesn’t necessarily want the whole world to see him crying. The rain has started to let up- but just barely. At least it wasn’t assaulting his ears anymore. Little things, try and focus on the little things.

_ And throw it all away _

_ 'Cause I've grown tired of this body _

As the tears slowly stop, he moves his hands to cover his mouth, a blank stare being returned to him in the window. A static- different from the kind caused by  _ it _ \- slowly fills his head, leaving nothing but a numbness behind. This is fine. Everything is fine. A pit forms right below his ribcage, a heavy weight settling there.

_ A cumbersome and heavy body _

_ Take my lungs, take them and run _

Breathing in deep, he attempts to ground himself…. It doesn’t work. Silently, he resigns himself to his fate, as everything seems to blur together. He sits back, gazing out the window as reality starts to slip like sand through his fingers. He doesn’t know how long he stays like that, seconds, minutes, hours?

_ Take my tongue, go have some fun _

_ And take the ears, take them and disappear _

If he remembers correctly, someone once told him what this was called. What was it…. Oh, dissociation. Well, it’s not like having the name of it is going to fix this. Out of the corner of his eye he notices a small flashing light. Guess the time is up on that tape.

_ And take my joints, take them for points _

_ Take my teeth, tear through my cheeks _

Getting up with a groan, he fumbles with the camera for a minute. Slipping the tape out, he strolls over to his computer. Might as well upload this tape as well as the previous one. Maybe his viewers will get a kick out of the drama, who knows. God knows why they even still watch in the first place.

_ And take the nose go and dispose _

_ Oh would you go dispose, just go dispose _

For a split second, he entertains the idea of just doing what Alex failed to do. Burn the tapes, burn the evidence, and delete the channel. Erase all traces of this on the internet. Attempt to go back to his life before- even if he can’t remember what that was. He’s entertained the thought before, even  _ if  _ deep down he knows it’s not possible.

_ 'Cause I've grown tired of this body _

_ A cumbersome and heavy body _

Opening up his laptop, he squints a bit at the sudden light. Boot up. Plug everything in. Unlock. Access hard drive. Select all. Move -> Marble Hornets -> My footage. Moving… complete. Unplug. Merge files. Open window. Upload video. Uploading… complete. Close window. Log out. Shut down.

_ I've grown tired of this body _

_ Fall apart without me body _

Everything is quiet for a bit in his mind. Sitting back, he stares at the ceiling and drifts. Everything is light and yet heavy, loud yet quiet, too much and too little. But that’s okay. That’s perfectly fine. Distantly, he acknowledges the fact that he is moving. Getting up and sliding in another tape, setting the camera to record through the night. But he doesn’t feel it, not  _ really _ . He knows it’s happening, but everything is also fuzzy- like trying to recall old memories. Like almost everything else in his life.

_ Take my (eyes) _

_ Take them (aside) _

His gaze won’t focus, no matter how hard he tries, until he just gives up. He sits there, for who knows how long, staring blankly at the ceiling. It feels like it’s only been seconds- yet hours at the same time. Years- yet the date hasn’t even changed. He can feel himself being pulled in a thousand different directions, but none of them hurt- no, it’s like the feeling of his soul moving is molasses, liquid and viscous. It can not fill the shape of his body. It can not be contained inside of it.

_ Take my (face) _

_ And desa (crate) _

He cannot look into the mirror, the face that gazes back will not be his own. The fingers that lay atop the bedsheets bleed and merge into it like roots, never to stay there but to plant themselves for what time they have. Limbs heavy enough that there is no possibility he will be able to move. But he doesn’t want to.

_ Arms and (legs) _

_ Get in the (way) _

Next it’s his legs, spreading out, out, out like branches in the sky. This body is no longer his own, it is no longer human. What remains is simply what  _ looks  _ to be. Soon enough the knees turn into rocks, the elbow and forearm join it. Pouring out of the mouth is a faint breath, just there to give the plants the oxygen they need. The head becomes the bole, supporting the tree as it grows out of this dead carcass of a body. Beautiful green leaves to dance in the sun grow atop the tree, and vines snack around the rocks and roots, with flowers blooming along the edges to create a gorgeous, grotesque painting of greys, greens, and tans.

_ Bodies (break) _

How fragile the human body is, it’s almost pitiful. The small amount of strength required to break individual bones. Supposedly the top of the food chain, but hardly off the bottom at the same time. How do you keep this thing alive? It’s so much effort, and oftentimes in vain too. Your world is filled with death, constant and daily. So why does it make a difference, these few people? Is it because of an emotional attachment? What bonds hold you to them?

_ I've grown tired of this body _

_ Cumbersome and heavy body _

Relinquish those bonds. The urge to let go is almost overwhelming, I know you can feel it too. This isn’t just some story, you and I are one in the same. You can look among the internet and easily find many others who want to let go, so why hold yourself back? You have already forgotten your previous life, you only do this now as a sense of purpose. You could easily join me, a simple wander into the woods and this would all be over.

_ I've grown tired of this body _

_ Fall apart without me body _

No, we can’t. We still  _ do  _ have responsibilities in the form of this channel. We’d possibly draw even more unwanted attention to ourselves by stopping and disappearing. Who knows what The Operator would do if we suddenly stopped? He could easily move on to another victim, and we can’t have that. Tim already said it had started to affect him again too. Either way, the bottom line is, we still need to find Jessica and bring her back home safely.

_ I've grown tired of this body _

_ Cumbersome and heavy _

We can’t keep going like this, we need to go to bed. Maybe this will be better in the morning. Better? How can things get  _ worse? _ We’re being chased by an eldritch abomination. Oh just shut up, we need to think for a minute.

_ Tired of this body _

_ Fall apart without me _

All thoughts soon fade into the background, becoming a white noise just as the rain did. Taking a moment, he breathes in deeply, feeling his lungs expand to their full capacity, bringing in new and cool air. Those branches that stretch out from his eye, further and further until no God can even see the end, shake softly with the movement. The leaves rustle quietly, like a spring cold front right before a storm.

_ Tired of this body _

_ Cumbersome and heavy _

But just like any tree, it will eventually wither and fade. Just like any body, it will rot and cave. The faint trickle of the stream surrounding his head will dry up, as his soul will gradually piece itself back together again. The molasses will soon fill these earthly boundaries of the body and it will be contained once again.

_ Tired of this body _

_ Fall apart without me _

Vaguely noticing the time slipping by, the hours wasted, the years passing- his eyes begin to close. Slipping shut ever so slowly. The stream slows to a trickle, as darkness starts to overtake his vision. Vision that- for so long now- has been corrupted by monsters, creatures eager to feast on his vulnerable soul. We will get it back in time. We will restore him to who he once was.

_ Tired of this body _

_ Tired of this body _

But that is yet to come. For the future for him is ill-lit, but that too can change. Time is funny like that, nothing is definitive except the past. Every choice he makes could lead to his doom, every choice could lead to a bright future. Sure, he can take these choices and try to make the best of a situation, he can guess where the future could go, but timelines always change. In one universe where he is silent, it leads to a lonely death. One where he ventures alone, slowly losing himself and his channel. Eventually it’s anything but his own. But that is not this universe.

_ Tired of this body _

_ Cumbersome and heavy body _

Faintly, yet also ear splittingly loud is an alarm. Jolting in bed, he looks to the camera. The… the tape is over already. A quick glance at the clock shows that it’s midnight. He had sat there for hours, time becoming a senseless background noise to him. Everything is still leaden and fuzzy, but he forces himself to sit up. Crashing into him, the light feeling of drifting comes to a halt. It’s as if someone had changed the input on a TV.

_ (Cumbersome and heavy body) _

_ Heavy body _

Gently shaking his head, he blinks and moves to put on his glasses- glasses that don’t- and shouldn’t exist. He… he has never owned glasses, right. Taking off the hat, he shifts so his legs hang off the creaking bed. He stands up and stretches, attempting to pop his back as his mind is a comforting blank. His body feels wrong, from the height to the hair- it’s best to avoid that mirror. Oh well, time to change that tape.

_ Heavy body _


End file.
